When I was 15, I went to a party with my closest friends, we were always hanging out together, harmless fun, those days were the best days of my life. I didn’t have much experience in drinking, and never knew when to stop drinking and usually passed out drunk. But my friends always made sure I got home safely.
One night, after walking around town having fun as usual, Pete suggested we go to his sister’s house to drink and have fun. Since we’d usually always drink outside, we thought it would be a nice change to be inside, listening to music and play spin the bottle, feeling a bit more mature than to just hang out on a bench while all the “adults” would be inside the bars having fun.
We were all having a blast, I got to see my crush without his girlfriend, and just didn’t want to go home. I drank up the courage to tell him how I felt, but never felt drunk enough. Before I knew it, I was feeling sleepy and had a sudden urge to vomit, so I rushed to the bathroom where I barely made it to the sink before I got sick. After what felt like a few minutes, I got dizzy and had to sit down. The bathroom was small, I sat on the toilet, my arm pressed against the door to my right, and one arm on the sink to the left of me. I felt uneasy, like I was being watched. I looked behind me, the small window had its curtains drawn, and the shower in front of me was completely hidden behind the showercurtains. I noticed a pair of feet below the curtain, and saw a face hidden behind the white, nearly see-through curtains. Suddenly the curtains were pulled to the right, revealing the host of the party. I remember saying “haha, trying to prank us, right? Sorry for barfing in the sink, I’ll clean that up, I promise.”.
But there was something different in his eyes. The usual smiling eyes had turned to something more sinister. He wasn’t smiling, he didn’t say a word.
He rushed at me, pulling my shirt up. I asked him why, thinking to myself that maybe he was trying to help me not get vomit on my shirt. But then he unzipped my skirt and began pulling my pants off. I was weak, I had no strength left in me, and he wouldn’t stop taking my clothes. I began crying, feeling helpless and alone, trying to scream, when he violently put his genitals in my mouth. Everything went black for a second, and the next thing I know, I’m vomiting again. The music is so loud in the apartment, I can’t even hear my own thoughts anymore. I am bent over the sink, my stomach is burning, and I can’t stop vomiting. I fall on the floor, crying, not understanding what is going on, when the door suddenly opens. A girl looks inside, sees me and says to the others “you’re going to have to pee outside, this chick is naked, I think they’re getting busy in here!”.
The door closes. He hid behind the curtains when the door opened. He looks angry. He gets dressed, but hides my clothes in the top cabinet so I can’t reach them.
He goes out to the others, and as I finally muster up the strength to stand up, I open the door to ask them for help, but it’s too late.
“Make sure she gets home safely, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
But it was too late, my crush never knew what happened.
I tried to lock the bathroom door, but he was too quick. He lifted me up and carried me towards the bedroom, I tried to hold onto the doorframe, but he was too powerful. He was sober.
I cried, begging him to stop, but there was no use, I wouldn’t get out. The last thing I remember was my phone ringing, I saw my crush’s name on my phone, and he took the battery out of my phone. I woke up the day after to find my shirt on backwards, my skirt was turned inside out, my pants were on, but my panties were under the bed. He didn’t look at me. For years, I had no idea what had happened that night due to passing out. But I remember everything now. You took my safety from me, you took my youth, you ruined every relationship I have ever had, you took my virginity. All because of you.
I spent years trying to figure out what happened that night, and since you were so nice to me afterwards, I thought that whatever happened, it must have been my fault, I must have had sent you signals or something. When I was 19, I went to visit two of my friends who worked at a bar. They used to give me drinks for a cheaper price, so I was always up for visiting them. That night, I went to the bathroom to pee, when I suddenly heard the door open behind me. Thinking it was one of my friends, I asked if they needed to pee, too, but they weren’t there. I turned around, and was instantly gripped with a familiar fear I couldn’t explain. There you were. I instinctively ran to the nearest bathroom stall to lock myself in, but you were too quick. Again. You kept apologizing for causing me this fear, and said you just wanted to tell me the truth. It was all you. You were sober that night. I was passed out and momentarily woke up a few times, and you said you had never gotten over that guilt.
My stomach was turning. It wasn’t my fault. I never sent you any signals, I was a victim.
I began crying uncontrollably and yelling the names of my friends. That’s the last time I spoke to you.
You left. My friends came rushing in, comforting me, and promised to kick him out of the bar.

I told a mutual friend of ours, Todd, a friend I had always trusted, a friend who listened, and whom I had helped several times over the years. He was devastated to hear about this. We would regularly go for walks, Todd would always be a gentleman and follow me home from parties, and made sure I always felt safe. One night, we were supposed to go to a concert together, but my boyfriend at the time and I had plans, so I had to bail on you. Around 2 AM, you called me and asked me to look outside. There you were, just wanting to give me a hug goodnight, and say hi since you were going out of the country for a while, and wanted to see me first. You were very drunk, and I had to repeatedly ask you to talk more quietly, since I didn’t want the neighbors to wake up. You held around my waist, looked me deep in the eyes and said how fond you were of me and how happy you were that we were such good friends. You told me how happy you were that I had found love with your cousin, and how happy we looked together. You gave me a big hug, and kissed my neck. You had never done that before, so I got very uncomfortable and reminded you that we both were in relationships, and reminded you that your girlfriend probably wanted you to come home now. You looked straight at me, the smile faded, and your eyes turned sinister. The kind of sinister I had seen 4 years earlier. I knew I had to get away fast, so I told you goodnight, and turned around to go back inside. But you grabbed my arms tightly and told me not to worry, and how wonderful this would be. How you had always had feelings for me, and how this was meant to be. You forced your hand inside my pants, while holding my wrists with your other hand. I begged you to stop, but it was as if your mind was gone, you couldn’t hear me. You kept saying how wonderful this was, that it was finally happening, and how nice it felt. Me being on my period obviously made you assume that I was enjoying this. I clawed your arm trying to make you release me, but you wouldn’t stop. When you finally stopped, I realized it was because of the wet spot on your pants. I finally managed to run inside and lock the door. I sat on my bed, in disbelief and sorrow over what had happened, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t move, I was frozen. My door opened several hours later, my boyfriend had come to see me, as he usually would, to visit me before he went to work. He seemed eerily calm. He hugged me and said everything would be okay, and how fucked up the world was. I couldn’t speak, I was completely in shock. I barely managed to stutter the words “we need to call the police.”, when he looked down at the floor, sighed and said he had to go somewhere. I asked him where, and he said he was going to visit Todd before he left. “He’s my cousin. I promised to visit him before he leaves.”. I got up, told him that either he goes to visit him, or we call the police.
He went to see him.
I received an email some time later, it was from Todd.
He was his usual goofy self, making jokes, asking about the weather, and telling me all about how he had now moved out of the country, and that he missed me and our walks.
I sent him an email saying “you were there for me when Pete raped me. How could you do this when you knew about what Pete did.”.
He sent me a furious reply saying I was insane, and I would never find love.
I never responded.
The last time I saw him, I had a panic attack and ran through a mall just to get away from him.

30th September 2015.
I was out with my two best friends, we were at a pub quiz, having the time of our lives, celebrating that my therapist and I had gotten so far, that I would finally be getting a job, I would get my own apartment, and things were finally feeling normal for me. I told them “I finally feel like me again, I am invincible!”. To get to a place in your life that you’re able to comfortably and with confidence get through any challenge and every day with ease. I was even going on long walks on my own, something I hadn’t been able to do since I was 15, and I could honestly say I was happy. I felt so free. I wasn’t dependent of anyone, I could leave the house without having a panic attack.
Carla had to go to work, she had the nightshift that night, while April and I stayed until the pub quiz was over. After two consecutive bad rounds, we decided to leave early, since I wanted to buy take-away on the way home before they closed. We parted ways just before I reached the pizzeria, she offered to tag along with me, but I insisted, and said I honestly wasn’t nervous anymore. When I arrived at the pizzeria, I made my order and quietly sat down to text my boyfriend. We’re in a long-distance relationship, so sending texts feels like having a real conversation by now. I told him my food was done soon, and promised to call him on Skype on the way home if I got nervous. My food was done, and I embarked on the fastest route home. I passed a taxi place, and briefly thought about buying some snacks for later, but decided I’d just go to the store the day after, since it would be a third of the price at the store. I passed an elderly man, he was visibly drunk, stumbling down the road I had passed, when he said “young lady!” I responded with “young man!” he giggled and wished me a wonderful evening, and I wished him the same, smiling from ear to ear. A couple came walking past us as we exchanged our polite greetings, seeming to think we were quite odd. This just added to my smile, as I doubt the man would have received such a pleasant greeting from younger people. As I walked towards the familiar stairs I had walked up several times before, I noticed footsteps behind me, their pace becoming faster and faster. I see my own shadow reach the bottom of the stairs, when I notice the shadow of the person behind me getting closer to mine. Through years of therapy, I had finally overcome my overwhelming sense of paranoia, and obviously stepped to the side of the stairs to allow the person to get past me, since they were in such a rush.
Little did I know that the rush was not to get past me, but to get to me.
I felt a sharp pain in my left arm and on my right side. I instinctively lunged my bag of food towards the person, as I’m convinced that I am being mugged by the old man, who must have gotten the wrong idea from my kindness. I see my purse swing in front of me on my right side, and force myself to protect it. I try to turn around, but I am unable to do so, I am being restrained forcefully and can only try to hit this person repeatedly with my bag. The scent of the burger I had purchased fills the air as the bag hits the darkblue winter jacket repeatedly. There’s a sharp pain in my left right knee which buckles and I fall onto it, still remaining up by holding my left leg bent, as to not fall down. I feel warmth towards my left ear when I hear a male voice say: “we’re going to fuck now. I am going to fuck you, now you’re going to fuck me.”.
My entire body goes cold. I can’t feel my heart beating anymore. I am knocked over on my right side, screaming in fear, when his hand reaches my eyesight, desperately trying to cover my mouth to silence the screams. I violently lunge my head away, managing to keep screaming, slamming my head onto the bricks below me. This happens 5-6 times until his hand goes away. I feel my crotch sting and burn as he moans and forces his hand onto my genitals. I have never felt a pain so horrifying in my life. He had managed to knock my glasses off, so I couldn’t see anything. I try and I try to turn around, I try to get away, when I think to myself that I need to kick him away. He was holding my left arm, and I couldn’t move my right arm since it was stuck beneath me in the fall, and his weight as well made it impossible to get free. Suddenly I feel that I’m able to turn around. I immediately swing to my left, when I see his blurry face. I still remember how small his pupils were when I saw his face. I tried to kick him, but he was too quick to escape that I doubt I ever hit him. I instinctively grabbed the bag which was now a few meters away from me, and the soda which had rolled out into the mud. I ran down to the taxi place and asked them to call the police immediately. As she dialed the number, a boy ran over to me, asking what had happened, and immediately ran to the place where it happened, trying to see if he could catch him. The woman was now talking to the police, she said a girl was here, looking messed up, bleeding from her nose. My only response was “That’s not true, I have never bled out of my nose.”
I awaited the police, and was now facing several weeks of uncertainty, not knowing who the attacker was, or why this had happened. A policeman was able to identify him through surveillance cameras, and he is now in prison for three years.

Every day I expect someone to attack me again. I trust no one. I could not trust my closest friends, I cannot trust anyone outside, and this monster who is now in jail also attacked an elderly woman.

I can’t talk to anyone about this. Everyone expects you to just feel okay again, time heals all wounds, right? I don’t want people to walk on eggshells around me, but if I can’t talk about it, then how will it get better?
Therapy taught me to go against my instincts. Therapy taught me to not be afraid of walking outside alone. Therapy taught me not to be worried about noises. Therapy taught me not to believe my paranoia.
Where am I now?
I’m not saying therapy is horrible, it did wonders for me.
But now I just feel like I can’t trust anyone. I trust my instincts. My instincts made me fight back that night. My instincts made me seek people instead of running home. But now my instincts are telling me it will never be safe, it will happen again. If not by him when he gets out of prison again, then by someone else. I was passed out the first time, but I was sober the other two times. I am sober now, and I doubt that will ever change. Not as long as there are monsters roaming this earth.

I’m 29, at the end of my rope, and I’m slipping into the black tar of uncertainty and despair.
By now I’m not even sure if I want to keep fighting to feel better.
In May 2015, my doctor found out I have a rare disease. As long as I take those pills I’ll be fine.
But without surveillance, who will know if I’m taking those?
The tar feels more comfortable now than ever. And I’m finally at peace with that feeling.
This is not a cry for help, this is exactly what this page is intended for.
I’m just venting my innermost thoughts, those I never share with others.